Play Ball
by AdmHawthorne
Summary: Emma teaches Regina to throw a baseball. Amusement ensues. Very short drabble.


**Characters aren't mine. They belong to ABC, Disney, and other assorted entities of importance. I gain nothing from writing these stories but the fun of doing it. Please don't sue me.**

**Did a few drabbles last night from some prompts. Wrote them in a google doc. A few people watched me as I wrote the, so, if you see typos, blame them. THERE WAS TOO MUCH PRESSURE! ;-)**

**Prompt: judahbird8: How about Emma teaches Regina how to do something...?**

* * *

"Okay, see, the thing is," Emma rolled her eyes and groaned. What had she gotten herself into? "You can't just glare at it and make it work."

"Clearly," Regina deadpanned as she stared at the baseball in her hand. "Remind me again why I'm learning to do this?"

"Because our son asked us to help him work on his swings?" The blonde smirk at the other woman's eye roll. "Besides, everyone should know how to throw a baseball. How hard can this possibly be for you? I mean, you can throw a ball of fire, so why can't you throw a baseball?"

"It's not the same thing, Miss Swan," the brunette snapped back. "My 'ball of fire' is controlled by magic. It goes exactly where I want it to go because I want it to go there. This thing," she picked the ball up from her glove with her free hand, "does not."

"Maybe you should just use magic to make it go straight," the younger woman mumbled and then quickly howled in pain from the punch on the arm she received from the brunette. "Hey! What was that for?"

"For suggesting magic is the answer to everything." Regina turned back to the line of coke cans Emma hand lined up along the bench in the backyard. "I really don't want to throw this at my bench. Surely you can think of a better targeting system?"

Emma rolled her eyes and scanned the yard. "You could aim for the trunk of your apple tree."

Regina scoffed. "Isn't it bad enough that you molested it when you first arrived here? Do you have to suggest I beat it to death, too."

"You know, for a woman who seemed all gung-ho about learning to throw a baseball not more than a day ago, you seem pretty not gung-ho to do it now," the sheriff observed as she crossed her arms and glared at the other woman.

"Well, yesterday our son was asking me to do something with him. Today, he went off to some sort of study group and left me alone with you to learn how to actually do the thing he wanted me to learn to do with him," the older woman snarked back.

"I'm going to pretend as though you're super happy I'm here helping you learn so you don't look like a totally chump in front of Henry," Emma said between gritted teeth.

"Your powers of denial are, dare I say, better than that of your mother's," the brunette replied with smirk and quirk of her eyebrow.

"Oh man, really?" Throwing her hands up in the air, Emma stomped over to the bench and began picking up the cans. "Tell you what, whenever you decide you actually want to learn how to throw a ball," she seethed as she tossed the cans back into the recycling bin near the bench, "let me know because I don't have to take this kind of…" She was cut off when a perfectly thrown curveball came hurtling across the yard at her. With a yelp, she caught it with both hands and then cursed for a moment. When the throbbing pain finally subsided from her hands, she glared at the brunette with a look that would have put a lesser person to shame.

Regina, however, only chuckled, casually pulled her glove off, and tossed it on the bench.

"Damn it, Regina," Emma grumbled, flicking her hands back and forth in the air, trying to shake off the pain, "you could have just told me that you already knew how to throw a ball."

"And what would be the fun in that, hmm?" The brunette strolled through the yard, casually passing the still irritated blonde and giving her a wink along the way.

"I hate you a little right now," the younger woman called out.

"I highly doubt that, dear." Regina stopped at the back door, waiting until Emma made eye contact. "Now, are you going to stand there and pout all day, or are you going to come inside and let me take care of your hands?"

Emma glared harder. "With what? A sledge hammer?"

"I was thinking we could take a bath," the other woman replied nonchalantly. "But, if you'd rather…"

"Nevermind," Emma cut in, making a beeline for the door. "I'll hate you later."

Regina's smirk turned into a smile as she held the door open and then quickly closed it to follow the blonde upstairs. She made a mental note to tell Henry that Emma had taught her all about curveballs today and grinned at her own pun before she climbed the stairs to the enthusiastically waiting blonde in her masterbath.


End file.
